


that's just how we live in my genre

by achilleees



Series: porn roommates AU [1]
Category: Pacific Rim (2013)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Porn, Chick-Flick Moments, Intelligence Kink, M/M, Misunderstandings, Self-Indulgent
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-13
Updated: 2013-10-13
Packaged: 2017-12-29 07:10:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,716
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1002439
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/achilleees/pseuds/achilleees
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>Hey man – it’s a two bedroom flat, utilities + cable are included in the cost, I’m a dude, there’s no catch. My last roommate wasn’t cool with my job (gay-for-pay porn star) so he ditched, thus the ‘no douchebags’ clause. If you’re that kind of asshole, respond with some homophobic slurs just so I know what I’m getting into. If you’re not, lemme know when you can come by so I can show you the digs. – Raleigh </i> </p><p>Or: Chuck moves in with a guy he found renting out a room on Craigslist, who just happens to be a gay-for-pay porn star. And hey, Chuck could always use some spare cash…</p>
            </blockquote>





	that's just how we live in my genre

**Author's Note:**

> This was written for the [PacRim Mini Bag](http://pr-minibang.tumblr.com/) which has a ton of other really cool works that you should check out! I think the Masterlist goes up on the 21st, fyi.
> 
> So much thanks to vaguelyreferential and shuushoku for betaing and aussie-betaing respectively, you guys were incredibly helpful and definitely improved the quality of this thing. 
> 
> Also the amaaaazing Tsailanza did [art](http://tsailanza.tumblr.com/post/63921174379/roommies-by-tsailanza%0A) [for](http://tsailanza.tumblr.com/post/63921479783/a-different-version-of-this-that-i-might-or-might%0A) [this](http://tsailanza.tumblr.com/post/63922204086/more-porn-roommates-au-stuff-and-im-sure-theres%0A) fic, which is also imbedded in the text (you'll see) but you should still go to her tumblr to tell her how awesome it is.
> 
> [More FANTASTIC OH MY GOD HOT art](http://lokefanart.tumblr.com/post/64930192958/hey-hey-now-no-hiding-raleigh-says-he-works) by lokeloke (NSFW).
> 
> [More art! Super cute! Chuck in argyle aaagh](http://hazlenewt.tumblr.com/post/94032569471/still-love-dis-fic) by hazelnewt.
> 
> [“I’ve got your organic all-beef sausage right here, mate.”](http://foreverspecs.tumblr.com/post/140551366802/i-drew-for-the-first-time-in-56-months-yay) by foreverspecs.
> 
> That was a lot of notes. Enjoy!

The Craigslist ad is minimal, to say the least.

 _Room for rent_ \- $1150 ( _Cambridge_ )

_Fully furnished. 10 min walk from Central. No douchebags, thx._

And that’s it.

Chuck has to admit, he’s intrigued.

 

 

He dashes off a quick email before heading to class, just expressing his interest, and by the time he gets back there’s a response waiting in his inbox.

_Hey man – it’s a two bedroom flat, utilities + cable are included in the cost, I’m a dude, there’s no catch. My last roommate wasn’t cool with my job (gay-for-pay porn star) so he ditched, thus the ‘no douchebags’ clause. If you’re that kind of asshole, respond with some homophobic slurs just so I know what I’m getting into. If you’re not, lemme know when you can come by so I can show you the digs. – Raleigh_

Chuck reads the email twice. He sits back. Blinks. Thinks about the look on Herc’s face when he learns Chuck’s going to be living with a gay porn star.

And grins.

 _I’m free anytime after 4 tomorrow_ , he replies. _Looking forward to it_.

 

 

Searching _Raleigh_ \+ _gay porn_ on Google only gets him porn from Raleigh, North Carolina.

 

 

He expected Raleigh to be neck-down hot, what with his career of choice – porn stars, in his experience, tended to make up for their generic faces by having incredible bodies – but Raleigh’s the kind of good-looking that puts other guys to shame. Chuck resolves not to stand too close to him when they’re out in public, because he’s not insecure but he’s not delusional either, and Raleigh’s _hot_. Stupid hot. Annoyingly hot.

Chuck would find comfort in the kind of doofy, good-natured confusion that seems to be Raleigh’s default expression, but somehow even that looks good on him, the jackass.

 

 

Raleigh answers the door wearing a tight white tank top and sweatpants, arms and forehead gleaming with sweat. “Hey, you Chuck?” he asks with a wide smile. He holds out his hand.

“Yeah, that’s right,” Chuck says, accepting the handshake. “And you must be Ray.”

Raleigh’s smile goes a bit forced. He doesn’t let go of Chuck’s hand for long enough that Chuck has to tug out of his grip, wiping the sweat off on his jeans.

“Y’alright there?” he asks.

Raleigh’s head shakes minutely, apparently snapping out of his daze. “Yeah, I’m good. Just – wasn’t expecting the accent, I guess.” His smile turns loose and easy again. “And it’s Raleigh, actually.”

“Right,” Chuck says. “You know, Ray, I gotta say, I’m curious about the lifestyle of a porn star. How many hours d’you spend working out a day? If it’s more than five, you don’t have to answer, just blink twice.”

Raleigh laughs and leans against the doorjamb with his arms over his chest. “Did you miss the part of my ad where I specified ‘no douchebags’?”

“Nah,” Chuck says with a toothy smile. “But you’ll note the lack of homophobic slurs.”

“That’s something, I guess.” Raleigh shakes his head, then steps to the side. “Alright, let me give you the grand tour.”

 

 

It’s a sweet-ass apartment, for sure. The couch in the living room is plush leather, set up right across from the giant fuckin’ TV, and the kitchen may not be huge but the bathroom’s big enough to make up for it. The spare bedroom is probably the best part, furnished with a queen-size bed and a matching mahogany desk-dresser-bookshelf set. Chuck’ll have to trash the frilly blue curtains, but other than that, it’s a sick set-up.

Raleigh leaves him alone to explore, and when Chuck finishes, there’s another (annoyingly good-looking) guy on the couch next to Raleigh, both of them fiercely concentrated on their game of Halo. Raleigh’s so focused he’s got his tongue poking out the corner of his mouth.

“Hey, dude, I’m Yancy,” says the new guy without looking up.

“My brother,” Raleigh adds.

“Oh yeah? You shoot porn too?” Chuck asks, because he’s definitely got the looks for it.

“Wait, what?” Yancy pauses the game and turns to look at Raleigh. Contempt tightens the lines at the corners of his mouth. “Porn?”

Raleigh ducks his head and swallows, shoulders hunching.

Oh, _shit_. “Uh, I, sorry,” Chuck stutters, “I didn’t mean to –”

And then Raleigh busts up laughing, with Yancy following a hot second later.

“Oh, that’s fucking rich,” Chuck says when he realizes he’s been played. “And _you_ didn’t want douchebags applying.”

Raleigh can’t answer, because he’s still laughing too hard to manage words.

“Your face,” Yancy whoops, slapping his knee. “Jesus, kid, I’d feel bad, but…“

“But you’re an asshole, I get it,” Chuck says, rolling his eyes. He punches Raleigh’s shoulder. “Just gimme a controller and shut up, dickhead.”

Raleigh, still chuckling, does.

 

 

 _Gay for pay + Cambridge_ just gets him Craigslist ads for discreet hookups.

 

 

The actual move is pretty painless. Herc helps him pack everything up (Chuck doesn’t tell him yet what Raleigh does for a living – he’s waiting for the right moment on that one) and Yancy loans them his pickup truck, so it’s only a few days later that Chuck’s fully moved into the apartment.

Raleigh watches from the doorway as he arranges his books on the shelf, sipping from a coffee mug. His eyes widen with every engineering textbook Chuck pulls out of the box. “Kay, so I gotta be honest, when I saw you I figured you were a bartender or a bouncer or something.” He nods to Chuck’s leather jacket and boots. “What’s your deal?”

“Master of Science in Mechanical Engineering at MIT,” Chuck says. He frowns as he tries in vain to cram another textbook onto the shelf.

“Aren’t you 21 years old?”

Chuck hides his smirk. “And?”

“And that’s crazy,” Raleigh says, like he’s having trouble wrapping his head around it. “That’s legit insane. _No one’s_ that smart. I mean, I’m not stupid, but…”

Chuck turns and gives him an obvious once-over. “Of course you’re not, sweetheart,” he coos, affecting a humoring tone.

“Fuck you too, Hansen,” Raleigh says cheerfully. He shoots Chuck a jaunty salute as he leaves.

“Not enough money in the world, Becket,” Chuck calls after him.

 

 

Life settles into a routine pretty fast. He goes to class, comes home, does problem sets as Raleigh works out, plays video games with him for a while when he’s done, eats whatever health food concoction Raleigh’s nutritionist set up for him for the day, does more homework, and tries (and fails) to find Raleigh’s vids online every night before falling asleep.

After a few days, he splurges and buys himself a giant down comforter, some blackout curtains because he hates waking up with the sun in his eyes, and four enormous bags of salt and vinegar potato chips because fuck Raleigh’s diet, he wants to eat fucking carbs. He graciously doesn’t mention when he finds one of the bags empty in the trash the next day. Apparently porn stars have strict diets. Who knew?

Like, Raleigh’s got a _nutritionist_. Chuck realizes at this point that Raleigh’s no ordinary porn star, which, took him long enough. From what little information Raleigh drops about his studio, he’s something like royalty there, with his own dressing room and the right to pick and choose which scenes to shoot. It makes sense, because Raleigh’s as charismatic as he is gorgeous, and Chuck –

Chuck just really wants to see it, okay?

 

 

 _Gay porn + blonde + really good abs_ gets him nothing useful, duh.

 

 

Chuck hears his cell phone ringing from the kitchen, and manages to dig it out of his backpack just in time before it goes to voicemail. It’s Raleigh, and he rolls his eyes as he answers it, because Raleigh probably forgot something in the apartment, as per usual. “The fuck do you need this time?” he says.

“Fuck off,” Raleigh says, but Chuck can hear his smile in his voice. He likes that about Raleigh. “Did I leave my bag in the apartment?”

Chuck shakes his head, because _Jesus Christ_ _Raleigh_ , and takes a quick look around. “Yeah, it’s in your room. Want me to bring it to you?” He knows what the answer’s going to be before he even finishes the sentence.

Sure enough – “Nah, I can swing by and get it during break.”

“Okay…” Chuck says, letting his skepticism register in his voice.

“Later, man,” Raleigh says, and hangs up.

Chuck pulls his phone from his ear and just stares at it.

Raleigh’s weird about his job. He won’t tell Chuck anything concrete about the studio, and the idea of Chuck actually visiting where Raleigh works is apparently out of the question. It’s funny how embarrassed he is for someone who openly admitted to it in the beginning. Chuck wonders why he didn’t just lie about his job, if he’s so ashamed of what he does.

It bothers him, for some reason, and he vents to his friend Mako over gyros between classes.

“I’m not going to judge him, I think I’ve made that pretty fucking clear,” he says. He takes a huge bite of his gyro, grinning as her nose crinkles in dismay at his manners.

 “No, I can’t imagine you would,” she says, eating her gyro bite by bite with a fork and knife, because she’s nuts.

Something about her smile makes his eyes narrow. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You know what I mean,” she says in that annoyingly serene way of hers.

“That’s not – I’m not _gay_ , Mako,” Chuck says.

She doesn’t even bother saying anything, just raises her eyebrows archly.

“That’s not what this is about,” he scowls. “I’m just saying, it’s weird.”

Mako smiles.

“Aw, fuck off.” He throws a balled-up napkin at her face.

“Maybe it is not about shame,” she suggests. “People in the erotic film industry prefer to keep their careers separate from their personal lives. Is that so wrong?”

Chuck scowls, because fuck it, she’s right. “Well, no.” he says. He makes a face at her. “What do you know about it, anyway?”

She shrugs. “I would not take it so personally if I were you,” she says. “Though I strongly suspect your interest is very personal.”

He throws another napkin at her. Because fuck it, she’s right.

 

 

Raleigh’s weirdness about Chuck seeing him in his natural habitat comes to a head a short while later. Raleigh’s lifting free weights in the corner of the living room and Chuck’s curled up on the loveseat with a science journal, nibbling on the end of his highlighter, when there’s a knock on the door.

It’s weird, because they don’t get many visitors. At least, they don’t get visitors who are polite enough to knock instead of barging right in (and in Yancy’s case, occasionally picking the locks when they’re not home). So it takes a moment to sink in that someone’s actually come to see them, on _purpose_.

Actually, Chuck’s first thought is that the person has the wrong house, at least until the visitor calls through the door, “Sorry, Becket-boy, I know your pad is off-limits, but we need some fratboy glamour shots for the site.”

Raleigh’s face gives this great spasm of total panic. “Uh, just a minute,” he calls back, then spins to face Chuck. “Shit, get in your room.”

Chuck frowns, letting his highlighter fall from between his lips. “You’re shitting me, right?”

Raleigh makes shooing motions. “Just do it, okay?”

“I’m not going to judge you, if that’s what you’re worried about.” But even as he says it, Chuck is unfolding himself from his seat, standing begrudgingly to go to his room.

Raleigh actually shoves at his back to hurry him along. “I’ll explain later, alright? Just go.”

“Fine.”

There’d better be a damn good explanation for this.

 

 

The photo shoot takes so long Chuck falls asleep waiting, and when he wakes up, the sky is dark outside and the scent of bacon is thick in the air.

He can’t be too mad at Raleigh after all.

He cracks open his door and listens for a minute, but everything is quiet except the crackle of grease on a hot pan. He finds Raleigh in front of the stovetop, still shirtless, though he’s wearing different shorts and he’s got the letters **ΣAE** painted on his chest in purple.

Raleigh looks over his shoulder and sees him. He tips his head to the table, where there’s a BLT waiting.

Chuck bites into the sandwich and nearly moans in pleasure, because Raleigh used the special chipotle mayonnaise, which must mean he’s really sorry this time. Chuck hoists himself onto the counter and swings his legs out, catching Raleigh in the thigh. “I’m still mad at you,” he lies.

“Yeah, yeah,” Raleigh says.

Chuck dedicates his full attention towards enjoying the BLT. After he’s done, he leans over to the fridge and snags out a bottle of Gatorade. “So what the hell was that all about?” he asks, taking a swig. “I was serious, I’m not going to judge you.”

Raleigh shrugs. “That’s not what I’m worried about.”

“Then why won’t you let me visit you on set? Or meet your mates from the movies?”

Raleigh sighs, finally turning to face him. “It’s not you that I’m worried about.”

Chuck furrows his brow. “What?”

Raleigh gestures at Chuck, eyes sweeping up and down his body. “If they see you, they’re going to try to rope you in. I promise.” His eyes land on Chuck’s lips and stick there. “Pentecost’s a smart dude, he knows what a hit you’d be.”

“What…?” Chuck touches his lips self-consciously.

“And he’s fucking persuasive. I’m just trying to keep you clear of the industry.” Raleigh tears his gaze from Chuck’s mouth, though it seems to take visible effort. He turns back to the stovetop.

This whole time… It hasn’t been about Raleigh being ashamed to be a porn star. Raleigh’s been _protecting_ him.

And before he has time to really think about it, Chuck asks –

(It’s partly Chuck’s natural defiance towards being sheltered, partly the fact that he’s flat broke from paying for the apartment – even with the stipend from MIT – and gas and insurance for his motorcycle, partly that he doesn’t have the time for a regular job with his classes to think about, partly because it’s something new and different and exciting, partly because he wants to make Herc’s brain explode, and partly because…

Well, because he’ll definitely be able to find Raleigh’s videos this way).

“…How much does it pay?”

Raleigh gapes at him. “Aw man, after all that effort?” He shakes his head. “Look, if you’re interested, let me know. I’ll make sure you get the deal you deserve, and that you aren’t taken advantage of.”

“Alright then, I’m interested,” Chuck says.

“You sure you don’t wanna sleep on this?”

Chuck shrugs. “What is there to think about? It’s just a job, mate.”

Raleigh shakes his head again, smiling wryly. “Then let’s get you signed up, porn star.”

 

 

Chuck’s got class all the next day, so he doesn’t have time to swing by the studio with Raleigh. He figures he’ll drop in when he’s got the time and puts it out of his mind for the moment.

He’s on the couch doing yet another reading when Raleigh gets home, and he picks his head up to greet him, stopping short when he hears an unfamiliar voice that grows louder as the man approaches the living room.

“Alright, Becket-boy, let’s see if this mystery roommate of yours is worth the…” The man turns the corner, sees Chuck, and goes silent. His mouth falls open.

Chuck arches an eyebrow at Raleigh, who comes up behind the stranger.

Raleigh grins. “What’d I tell you, Tendo?”

“Is the pen thing normal?” Tendo asks, a little dazed.

“Oh yeah, I don’t think he knows how to study without something in his mouth.” Raleigh drops down next to Chuck on the couch. He reaches over and hooks the end of the pen out of Chuck’s mouth. “I think he’s got an oral fixation.” The way he says the words makes them probably the dirtiest phrase in the English language.

Chuck glares. “You need something, old man?”

“You know, the heartfelt way you express gratitude is probably my favorite thing about you,” Raleigh says.

“Gratitude for what?”

“Chuck, meet Tendo Choi, main man at the Pan-Pacific Dick Company, second only to Stacker Pentecost,” Raleigh says, tone pitched low and pompous. “He’s sometimes the cameraman, the contract negotiator, the PA, pretty much whatever Pentecost needs him to be. He’s also the guy who decides if you’re fit for the job.”

Chuck straightens up, suddenly aware of his utter lack of fashion sense. He wishes he weren’t wearing a paint-stained tank top and loose sweatpants – come to think of it, they might be Raleigh’s, judging by the way they nearly hang over his toes. It’s not his sexiest look. “Uh, right, yeah. Should I… do something?”

“Aw, shnookums, you know I think you’re beautiful just the way you are,” Raleigh coos, pinching Chuck’s cheek.

Chuck bats his hand away. “It doesn’t count as gay-for-pay if you actually _are_ gay for me, Rals,” he says.

Raleigh laughs. “So what do you think, Tender?” he asks, turning to Tendo.

Tendo has a queer look on his face as he watches them, but when Raleigh addresses him, he snaps out of it. “Oh, yeah, he’s perfect. Wouldn’t change a thing.” He purses his lips. “How would you like to do a few scenes together?”

Raleigh eyes him warily. “Why?”

“Just to make it more comfortable for him,” Tendo says, flippant. “No real reason.”

“What do you think?” Raleigh says, casting Chuck a sidelong glance.

Honestly, it’s a lot of pressure, and he’s not totally sure he wants Raleigh to see him at his most vulnerable, but – it doesn’t mean anything, right? That’s the whole point. It doesn’t have to mean anything. “I’d be down,” Chuck shrugs.

Raleigh looks at him for a long moment, face blank. Then he turns to Tendo with a too-wide smile. “Yeah, I’m in. I love breaking in the rookies.”

If he’s trying to freak Chuck out, it works.

 

 

Chuck’s more nervous than he thought he would be, showing up at the studio. It’s a nondescript building in Brookline, big and grey, with tinted windows. It’s pretty sketchy; people can probably tell it’s a porn studio just walking by.

He spends some time psyching himself up, then decides he can afford to take a quick detour to grab a cup of coffee before wading into the belly of the beast (he’s not chickening out, fuck off). Granted, right outside the door is probably not the best place to be doing this, because he turns around to head to Starbucks and collides smack into the largest human form he’s ever encountered.

He looks up. It’s a long way.

“Fresh meat,” someone says approvingly from the side, and he turns to find a gorgeous blond woman standing next to the behemoth. “Danger’s boy. Good lips.” She squeezes his cheeks. “How is gag reflex, boy?”

“You’re a seriously strange chick and if you don’t get your hands off me right the fuck now I’m going to revise my opinions on punching women,” Chuck says. It kind of loses its intended menace by the lisp he has because she’s still pinching his cheeks.

She pats his head. “Danger will make you behave. No chickening out, yes?”

“I’m not chickening out,” he says hotly.

“Good, then we go inside, yes?” She nods to the behemoth.

Chuck finds himself being shoved into the studio. There’s a reception desk with another lady behind it and Raleigh sitting on top swinging his legs. He looks up and grins as he sees Chuck. “Hey man! We all thought you had chickened out.”

“God dammit,” Chuck says.

“Alright, c’mon in.” Raleigh jumps off the desk and grabs Chuck’s elbow, dragging him away. He waves goodbye over his shoulder at the crazy lady and the giant guy.

Chuck looks him over. “What’s with the…?” He gestures to Raleigh’s outfit.

He doesn’t know what exact style Raleigh’s affecting – some kind of cross of preppy fratboy and douche-bro jock, with a Vineyard Vines button-down shirt (popped collar and all), khakis, wraparound sunglasses and a backwards baseball cap. He looks dumb and hot at the same time, which is pretty standard fare, for Raleigh.

“Good question,” Raleigh says, pulling Chuck down a hallway. Through the open doors, he sees flashes of bare skin and sequins, and tries to twist his head to look closer, but Raleigh’s marching him along too fast. “When I started working here, one of the veterans told me to pick a persona of a person totally unlike me, to distance me from the character. That way, my personality doesn’t bleed. You get it?”

“I think so,” Chuck says, because it does make sense. “So what should I be?”

 “Uhh…” Raleigh rubs his jaw. ”A nice person?”

Chuck smacks the back of his head. “Fuck off, dickhead.”

Raleigh chuckles. “No, but actually. You should be a nerdy, shy, hipster. Big thick glasses and knit caps and cardigans and stuff.”

“No fucking way I’m putting on a cardigan.”

“But the rest, yeah?” Raleigh leads him through a doorway into a room with piles upon piles of clothing of all sorts, pants and shirts and accessories, hats and scarves and dresses. He smiles at the lady there. “Hey Vanessa, this is Chuck, our newest recruit. I was thinking like, hipster-nerd?”

She lights up. “Ooh, yeah, tights jeans with plaid, or maybe a sweater vest. Definitely a skinny tie and some black glasses.” She taps a finger against her lip thoughtfully. “And a cardigan?”

God _dammit_.

 

 

She loads him up with an armful of his new outfits, and then Raleigh’s dragging him away again, speed-marching him through the halls. “All that shit’s yours now, so do what you want with it. If you leave it in the laundry here, they’ll do it for you, or you can bring it home and do it yourself. If you want a more extensive wardrobe than that, you may have to buy it yourself until you prove to them you’re worth the money,” Raleigh says.

“Got it,” Chuck says, not that there’s a chance in hell he’s spending his own money on this hipster shit.

“Another thing, we don’t go by our real names, obviously. I’m Danger.”

“Danger?” Chuck snorts. “That’s the most wannabe badass name I’ve ever heard.”

“Fuck off,” Raleigh says, smiling.

“No, seriously. You literally could not be less intimidating. What, was Vanilla McWhitebread taken?”

“You’re such a tool,” Raleigh says, but it’s fond. “So what’s your pseudonym gonna be?”

Chuck’s first thought is Max, but naming his porn identity after his dead dog is creepy on multiple levels. Besides, if Raleigh goes by “Danger,” clearly they’ve got different standards for naming conventions here. Maybe something about engineering? No, too lame, even if his persona is that of a shy hipster type.

He must take too long to answer, because Raleigh soon prompts, “Favorite alcoholic beverage? Childhood street address? Play any sports when you were young?”

“Maker’s Mark, Elizabeth St – _no_ –“ he says before Raleigh can say anything (Raleigh shuts his mouth with a smirk), “and I played footy. Real, not American,” he adds.

Raleigh looks thoughtful. “What position?”

“Striker.”

Raleigh’s face breaks out in a grin. “Perfect.”

“What?” Chuck asks, confused.

“No, it’s good, really. It matches my name, kinda, and it’s short and manly and memorable. Got everything you need, right there.” Raleigh punches Chuck’s shoulder. “I think you’re all set to go, man.”

“Great,” Chuck rubs his shoulder. “So what’s on the agenda for today?”

“I’m gonna fuck you up the ass,” Raleigh says, like it’s nothing.

Chuck chokes. “Isn’t that a little fast?” he asks, swallowing. “Like, I feel like most gay-for-pay is two blokes sitting next to each other on the couch jacking off and trying not to make eye contact.”

Raleigh blinks. “What? No. Why would anyone pay to see that?” He rests his hand on the back of Chuck’s neck and squeezes. “Why, you scared?”

There’s really only one answer to that. “Of _your_ dick?” Chuck’s lip curls. “Never.”

“Great, great.” Raleigh stops Chuck’s steps with a splayed hand over his chest, leaning in, eyes intent. “But in all seriousness, Hansen, if you aren’t comfortable at any point, say the word. I’m not gonna do anything that isn’t completely consensual.”

Chuck nods. That was an established clause in the contract, but it sounds more sincere coming from Raleigh, like he’s serious about it. Which is kinda nice to hear, Chuck’s gotta admit. “What was your first time like?”

Raleigh laughs, stepping back. They resume walking. “Threesome, actually. Stacker believes in making shit count. It’s kind of a blur, but mostly I remember having my balls sucked on for like an hour while the other dude fingered me until I nearly cried. Oh look, here’s my dressing room, you can change here,” he says, casual as anything, as if he didn’t just short-circuit Chuck’s brain with a single offhanded sentence.  “If you aren’t dressed in two minutes, I’m gonna come in and do it for you.”

Which really isn’t fair, because Chuck needs a minute to recover from that whole thing. But when Raleigh feints towards his t-shirt like he really is going to rip it off, Chuck hurries inside to change, ignoring Raleigh’s laughter following him in.

 

 

He changes in a record 24 seconds, and then spends the remainder of his allotted time staring at himself in the mirror. He looks completely ridiculous, his hair hidden under a knit cap, clunky black glasses obscuring his features, muscle lost under the folds of his plaid button-down.

“It’s nice, right?” Raleigh asks from the doorway.

Chuck doesn’t need clarification, he knows what Raleigh means. And Raleigh’s right, it is nice.

In the mirror, he doesn’t look like Chuck Hansen. Chuck Hansen would never wear high-tops, for fuck’s sake. And that’s great. On-screen, he’s not going to be Chuck. He’s going to be the shy, nerdy hipster, who blushes and smiles and follows orders. He’s going to suck Raleigh’s dick like he’s gagging for it, because he’s not Chuck Hansen – he’s Striker, the porn star, and he’s going to be fucking good at it.

And that’s _perfect_.

 

 

And then, what seems like seconds later, there he is, sitting on a black leather couch next to Raleigh and staring into the blinking red light of a camera.

“Isn’t there supposed to be someone manning the camera and giving directions and shit?” he asks without looking away from the lens.

“I love how much gay-for-pay porn you apparently watched as prep for this,” Raleigh says, half-approving and half-mocking. Chuck elbows him in the side, and he laughs and continues, “But yeah, actually, Tendo usually does my scenes. I figured since it was your first time, it’d be more comfortable if it were just you and me.”

Chuck would protest that Raleigh doesn’t need to protect him, but he is kind of glad, all the same. It’s already intimidating enough to think about being fucked on film, it’d be ten times worse with a real person watching from the corner.

Raleigh stretches, lazy and feline. “So, let’s get started, bro.”

Chuck nods.

“Aiight, you dirty pervs out there,” Raleigh says to the camera. “This is my roommate Striker. He needed some spare cash, and he’s kinda okay looking, I guess –”

Chuck smacks him, this time.

“So I brought him in, and here he is.” Raleigh turns and looks at him for a long, lingering moment, eyes heavy-lidded. He shakes his head. “He’s gonna look so good with my cock in his mouth, I think I might actually turn gay.”

Statements like that are gonna make it easy to act like the shy, prudish nerd, Chuck thinks to himself, feeling heat rush to his cheeks.

“God, you’re cute,” Raleigh says, wearing a crooked smile. “This your first time with a guy?”

Chuck tries to ignore the camera while he answers, but his gaze keeps flitting back, hyperaware of its presence. “Unless you count showing my dong to my cobber in kindie, yeah.”

There’s a beat of silence. Then, “English translation?” Raleigh asks, one eyebrow raised.

Chuck shrugs. “I showed my dick to my best friend in kindergarten.”

“Oh man, you know what gets me hot,” says Raleigh, theatrically fanning himself.

Chuck smirks. “You know it, baby.”

Raleigh turns to the camera, enunciating, “Just to clarify, we are _joking_. There is nothing okay about sexualizing children.”

“This is the worst dirty talk ever,” Chuck says with a grimace, leaning back with his hands behind his head.

“C’mere, babe, lemme make it better.”

And just like that, Chuck finds himself being kissed. He flails a little, hands fluttering uselessly before landing in Raleigh’s collar. His eyes slip closed, only to shoot open when Raleigh does _something_ with his tongue that’s probably illegal in some states.

Raleigh’s a good kisser.

“C’mere,” Raleigh says, muffled against his lips. He pulls Chuck over, arranging them so Chuck straddles his hips, Raleigh’s hand huge and warm on his lower back.

Chuck goes with it, but it’s weird, all that muscle like silken steel underneath him where he’s used to soft curves. When Raleigh grinds up into him, he gives a cry of shock and instinctively jerks away, staying in place only because Raleigh holds him there.

“Jesus, dude,” Raleigh laughs. “Work with me here, alright?”

“The fact that I didn’t knee you in the dick when you did that tongue thing should demonstrate that I _am_ working with you,” he says.

“What tongue thing?” Raleigh smiles wickedly. “You might have to show me.”

Chuck, with a long-suffering sigh, does.

 

 

A half-hour and a good deal of foreplay later, Chuck’s on his elbows and knees on the couch, sweat causing his skin to stick against the leather.

Raleigh’s got three fingers up his ass and it’s uncomfortable and tight and weird, and Chuck wouldn’t admit in a million years how much he likes the feeling. He probably doesn’t have to, though, with the way he’s panting and squirming back for more, head bowed low between his arms.

“Fuck,” Raleigh says in a tone like wonder. He twists his wrist. “Your blush goes all the way to your shoulders.” He bites down on the juncture of Chuck’s neck. “I wanna suck the freckles off your skin.”

“Your dirty talk is _so weird_ ,” Chuck says.

Raleigh laughs. He rests his forehead between Chuck’s shoulder blades, curled over him. “You ready?” he asks.

Chuck nods.

And just like that, Raleigh pushes in.

“Fuck,” Chuck grits out, because he can feel every inch of Raleigh, huge and searing hot, and it fucking hurts, and it’s wonderful. He bites his fist to keep quiet, scrabbling for purchase on the slick leather couch with his other hand.

“Hey, hey now, no hiding,” Raleigh says. He works his hips, pushing in another inch. “Let ‘em see your pretty face. C’mon, gorgeous, show everyone how much a straight boy like you loves getting fucked.”

Chuck shakes his head, overwhelmed.

Raleigh weaves his fingers through Chuck’s hair, dragging his head up. “Let ‘em hear you,” he rasps into Chuck’s ear. “I want the whole goddamn world to know how good this is.” He licks a stripe up Chuck’s neck.

“Nnn,” Chuck says. It was going to be a ‘no,’ but Raleigh picks that moment to twist his hips, and it’s all over for Chuck’s control.

Raleigh rocks his hips, just enough for them both to feel it. “Fuck, goddamn,” he says, still gripping Chuck’s head by the hair. “We’re gonna be hanging out on the fucking couch back home and I’m gonna look over at you and all I’ll be able to think about is how goddamn _tight_ you are, Jesus Christ. You’re gonna take my goddamn dick off.”

“Your erudite vocabulary is – probably my favorite thing – about you,” Chuck gets out between breaths.

Raleigh _moans_ , like being mocked during sex is a kink of his, or something. Chuck can get behind that.

“Lookit the nerdy little grad student with his fancy words,” Raleigh teases. “You think big emotions come from big words. You think I don’t know the ten-dollar words?” He thrusts, harder now, so that Chuck’s knees slide on the sweat-slicked couch before he plants one palm against the arm to hold himself in place.

“Did you just quote Hemingway at me?” Chuck asks.

“Bitch, I might have,” Raleigh says.

“Did you just quote _Gucci Mane_ at me?” Chuck asks, voice pitching higher now.

“I think you know the answer to that,” Raleigh says. He picks up the pace, faster now, and deeper. With one particularly deep thrust, he hits Chuck’s prostate dead-on.

Chuck’s vision goes white. He gives a choked noise.

“So use those big fucking words,” Raleigh says, low and hoarse. “Tell them how it feels, Poindexter.”

Chuck rolls his eyes.

“Tell ‘em how much you fucking love it.” Raleigh punctuates this by slamming into Chuck, knocking the breath out of him. “ _Tell them_.”

“It’s…” Chuck tries to think, but he can barely remember the English language, much less anything particularly intellectual. Raleigh’s dick is _that_ good, apparently. How embarrassing. “Transcendental,” he finally says. “It’s – inimitable.”

Raleigh _rumbles_ with approval, rewarding Chuck by clamping his hands down on his hips and rocking into him with full force, so rough the couch shakes from it. Pleasure courses through him like a current, all the way down his fingers and toes.

Chuck’s gonna come soon, he knows it, his balls drawing up. He thinks Raleigh might be close also, just from the arrhythmic jerk of his hips, no longer smooth and fluid.

“You wanna know how I feel, Dangah?” He purposefully draws out the vowels, the same way he often does for Raleigh’s name during their customary Call of Duty shit-talking.

“I want everyone to know how you feel, Striker,” Raleigh says. He wraps a hand around Chuck’s neglected cock, slick with sweat, the perfect pressure.

“I feel …” Chuck searches for the words, “unequivocally _satiated_.”

Raleigh moans and comes inside him, hand tightening almost unbearably. Chuck’s orgasm is ripped out of him, sending him reeling, coming in pulses all over Raleigh’s hand.

They stay in that position, catching their breath, for a few minutes. Then Raleigh gently pulls out of him, holding the condom at the base of his cock to keep it in place. Chuck collapses at his side, pushing the glasses back into place from where they’d slipped down his nose.

Raleigh looks over, grinning, sweat-damp hair hanging in his glassy eyes. “Fucking nerd,” he says.

Chuck, breathless and giddy, laughs.

 

 

He expected to feel different afterwards, but shockingly, the world does not substantially change just because he’s had a dick up his ass. He has to walk gingerly for a few days because Raleigh didn’t go easy on him, but that’s fine, he’s accustomed to pushing through pain from his Krav Maga training.

More than that, he doesn’t _feel_ different. He still wants to punch Raleigh in the face when he says exceptionally dumb things, still gets smacked by Mako when she catches him staring at Crystal Faye’s tits, still gets a little weirded out when he remembers at random points in the day that Raleigh’s _dick_ has been up his _ass_. And he liked it. A lot.

So he might be a little gay. He thinks he’s okay with that.

 

 

Chuck has to bang his fist hard on the door to Raleigh’s dressing room to be heard over the loud rapping practically vibrating the hall from inside. Raleigh pops his head out.

“It’s go-time, dumbass,” Chuck says, jerking his thumb toward the camera room.

“Aiight, be there in a sec.” Raleigh ducks back into his room, and the music cuts out a moment later. He reappears, now wearing his snapback hat and Rolex.

“What the fuck are you listening to?” Chuck asks as they start to walk to the studio.

Raleigh smiles wide, slinging his arm over Chuck’s shoulders. “Flo Rida, bro! Really gets my juices flowing.”

“You’re making me physically ill,” Chuck says, squirming out of Raleigh’s grip.

“So, like, not a good feeling that you’ve never never never never had before?” Raleigh asks, all innocence.

Chuck rolls his eyes so hard he probably strains something. “I can’t believe I’m about to put your dick in my mouth.”

“Hey, yeah!” Raleigh lights up. “You’re totally gonna spin my head right round when you go down.”

Chuck starts walking faster, just to get away from Raleigh.

“When you go down, down,” Raleigh calls after him.

 

And the dumbass just doesn’t _stop_.

“You just put your lips together and you come real close.”

Chuck looks up at Raleigh flatly. “It’s my first time giving a blowjob, not my first time learning what one is.”

“Aw yeah, that’s right,” Raleigh says, arching up so his ab muscles stand out in stark relief. Not for the first time, Chuck wonders if he should start working out more. “Blow my whistle baby.”

Chuck pinches his thigh. “Would you stop reciting Flo Rida lyrics to me and shut the fuck up? I can do this if you stop distracting me.”

“They’re probably going to have to bleep that out when they air it, I don’t think you’re supposed to cuss at me while you’re blowing me.” Raleigh snickers and drums his fingers against his own hip. “Kind of ruins the illusion that you’re doing this because you’re so hot for me you can’t keep your mouth off my dick.”

“I’d be a lot more hot for you if you  _shut the fuck up_ ,” Chuck says, unable to hide his smile.

“You’re so romantic,” Raleigh says, clapping a hand down over his heart.

“Guys,” says Tendo, sounding pained.

“Oh, right.” Chuck, reminded, turns back to his task. He takes a deep breath then takes the head of Raleigh’s cock into his mouth.

Raleigh gives a gratifying hitch of breath, and for a moment Chuck is ridiculously pleased with himself. Then Raleigh says, “Let me see you whistle while you work it.”

“That’s not even physically possible,” Chuck pulls off to say.

“Shh, back to work,” Raleigh says, hooking his knee over Chuck’s shoulder to drag him back in.

Chuck obediently opened his mouth and sucks his cock back in, thinking in the back of his mind that this isn’t so bad. The taste isn’t great, but it isn’t gag-worthy either, at least. When he gets accustomed to the feel, he sinks down a little more, applying some light suction.

“Good, good,” Raleigh says lazily. He tangles one hand in Chuck’s hair. “You can take a bit more, right, babe?”

He hates himself for it, but a trickle of heat shoots down Chuck’s spine at the pet name. He follows Raleigh’s lead, relaxing his throat to take in a little more.

“Yeah, just like that,” Raleigh says with a pleased hum. “Perfect.”

It doesn’t sound perfect. It sounds like Raleigh’s falling asleep, which frankly isn’t very flattering. Chuck sucks harder, curling his hand around the base of Raleigh’s cock.

Raleigh purrs, and his body gives one sinuous ripple from his shoulders to his thighs. “You’re doing great. I’m gonna give you some direction, okay? If you can’t take it, squeeze my thigh. Just – relax into it.”

Chuck is momentarily confused, until Raleigh’s hand tightens in his hair and presses down, controlling the pace of his motions. He’s slow and methodical about it, never going too fast or too far. Little by little, he has Chuck take him deeper and deeper down his throat.

“Perfect,” he breathes out.

It’s a good thing Chuck’s mouth is full, because he feels like grinning like a loon. Clearly, he can’t be that bad.

Then Raleigh starts whistling the riff from “Whistle.”

Chuck pulls off. “Are you shitting me with this?” he asks.

“Cause I love it how you drop it, drop it, drop it on me,” Raleigh sings in an undertone.

“You are so annoying,” Chuck says, pinching his thigh. Before Raleigh can respond, he sucks him back into his mouth, taking him as deep as he can. He pumps his hand over the bottom part that he can’t fit, cheeks hollowing out with the suction.

“Ohh yeah,” Raleigh says, rocking up into his mouth. “Just like that.”

Chuck swallows the saliva build-up in his throat, and Raleigh’s breath hitches, his hips stuttering.

“C’mon, Striker,” he says hoarsely. “You know what to do.”

Feeling foolish but unwilling to deny him, Chuck hums the riff from “Whistle.”

Raleigh is laughing even as he comes.

“Guys,” says Tendo, sounding pained.

 

 

“Would you stop whistling that song while I’m trying to study?” Mako asks, lips pursed in that judgmental way she has. “It’s very distracting.”

Chuck hides his grin by turning his face down toward his problem set.

 

 

“I haven’t seen you smile this much since you first taught Max how to untie people’s shoelaces on command,” Herc comments. He looks shrewdly at Chuck. “It’s drugs, isn’t it.”

“Yes,” Chuck says, deadpan. “Coke, actually. I sprinkle it in my coffee every morning. Want some?”

Herc is not amused.

 

 

“That,” Jin Wei proclaims, “is the look of a man who is getting laid regularly.”

His brothers’ heads twist to look at Chuck, who rolls his eyes as he tapes up his knuckles for the upcoming fight. “Not like you’d know anything about it,” he says. “But remember, whenever you want me to tell Mako you exist, say the word.”

Jin’s always more fun to spar when he’s irritated.

 

 

Chuck’s digging around in the fridge when he feels eyes on him, and he turns his head to find Yancy leaning against the doorjamb, watching.

“Our door was definitely locked,” Chuck says, turning back to the fridge. He pulls out a protein shake and cracks it open, taking a drink.

“It was,” Yancy agrees. “Did the Salvation Army throw up on you?”

Chuck looks down at himself. He’s wearing argyle, he realizes. And a polka dot scarf. Fuck, what is his life. “I haven’t changed yet,” he says.

“I can’t believe you get paid to dress like a homeless person.” Yancy shakes his head, looking uncannily like Raleigh as he does.

“Yeah, I’m pretty fortunate. If only you could also get paid to be ugly,” Chuck smirks. “If it were on a proportionate scale, you could buy the moon.”

“Suck my dick,” Yancy says.

Raleigh chooses this moment to wander into the kitchen. “Oh man, you should try it,” he tells Yancy. “He does this thing with his tongue –”

Yancy throws an orange at Raleigh’s head.

Chuck laughs. “If you’re really interested, I’m sure we could get you an audition with Tendo,” he tells Yancy. “Tell me, how do you feel about rimjobs?”

“I liked you better when you were all blushy about gay sex,” Yancy says with a grimace. “And dude, when did you join a frat?”

Chuck looks at Raleigh, who is wearing a low-side tank top with **ΣAE** emblazoned on the front in big block letters. That, paired with the salmon pink shorts and Ray-Bans, pretty much screams ‘fratbro’ in all-caps.

“I didn’t,” Raleigh says.

“Yeah, I can tell. Nice Sperrys, by the way.” Yancy says.

“Thanks,” Raleigh says breezily. “I had a pledge lick them clean before I spanked him with a paddle.” He winks at Chuck.

Yancy looks at Chuck, confused.

“Only the tops,” Chuck scowls. He’s still got the taste of leather on his tongue, gross. “And I’m gonna make you pay for that, I hope you realize.”

“I told you, next role-play is your turn to pick,” Raleigh says. “Just no teacher and schoolgirl, I look terrible in a skirt.”

Yancy raises both his hands in surrender. “Alright, I’m checking out of this conversation. It’s getting weird for the straight guy.” He walks away toward the living room.

“We’re all straight,” Chuck calls after him.

He gets a bark of laughter in return.

 

 

It is a little weird, Chuck thinks later, how comfortable he’s starting to feel in his hipster-garb. When he first started shooting porn, he would change as soon as he got home. Raleigh, too. But recently, hours go by before he changes back into his own clothing. It’s become normal for them to hang out in their porn apparel.

Well, the sweaters are pretty comfortable, he reasons, and resolves not to think on it anymore.

 

 

For all that Tendo claimed they would only be doing “a few scenes” together, Chuck never so much as touches another guy. He doesn’t think Raleigh does anymore either, and he checks the site regularly enough to be pretty certain of that one.

The higher-ups try to keep things interesting by mixing things up – they give Raleigh lists of scenes to choose from, ranging from light bondage to food-play to one particularly memorable military role-play that leaves Chuck’s throat hoarse from calling orders and Raleigh’s ass beaten bright red. But in the end, it’s really their choice, what scenes they do. Well, really it’s Chuck’s choice, because they always do rock-paper-scissors for the right to decide and Raleigh has an uncanny knack for losing.

Stupid bastard always starts with scissors.

It doesn’t get boring for Chuck, and according to Hermann, who manages the site, people don’t get bored of them.

Chuck didn’t comprehend how popular they were until he and Raleigh get called into a private meeting with Pentecost, who waits for them to be seated in front of his desk before sliding a packet of graphs over to them.

Chuck picks it up and scans over the top sheet. “Holy shit,” he says once he understands what he’s reading.

“What is it?” Raleigh asks, peering over his shoulder.

“It’s the traffic on the site – and see, here’s the number of people who pay to watch the full videos.” Chuck says, tracing over the blue line with his pointer finger.

Raleigh points at the graph. “What’s that giant spike?”

“That would be the day Striker and Danger’s first video aired,” Stacker says. “You boys have a gift.”

Chuck flips a page and finds a demographic breakdown. They’re something of a hit with women between the ages of 18 and 31. Either young women have a fetish for sexually compatible, argumentative, quasi-boyfriend douchebags, or Chuck’s hotter than he thought he was.

“So what you’re saying is, we deserve a raise,” Raleigh says, tilting his chair back on two legs. He goes to swing his legs up onto the desk, but Pentecost just looks at him and he coughs and lets his feet drop with a thump.

“What I am saying is, if you two are willing to use your popularity to your own benefit, I would be willing to negotiate,” Pentecost says.

“What’s that mean?” Chuck asks.

“We’ve been getting requests,” Stacker says. He spins his laptop around so they can see the screen.

There’s an indexed chart open, organized in a system Chuck doesn’t immediately understand, with footnotes and parenthetical explanations. He gathers that these are the requests they’ve received.

“They want me to jack off while you give directions,” he tells Raleigh. “And for you to come on my face and then feed it to me. Jesus, this one wants you to shit on my face. Over my dead fucking body.”

Stacker leans back, arms crossed over his chest. “How has doing scenes together here affected your relationship as roommates?” he asks.

“Sometimes he gets me to clean the apartment by not letting me come during scenes until I agree,” Raleigh says. “Other than that, it hasn’t. Why?”

Stacker nods slowly. “The most common request, by a large margin, was to film a scene in your apartment.”

Chuck freezes.

Part of their success at not letting their scenes affect their friendship is their combined talent for compartmentalizing. That’s the whole point of their characters as fratboy and hipster – to prevent character-bleed, to keep things detached.

And now Stacker wants them to film at home.

Talk about character-bleed.

“I, uh,” Raleigh says.

It’s not supposed to mean anything, Chuck reminds himself fiercely. They can keep it normal. He can’t let on how shaken he is, just at the idea of being at home with Raleigh, kissing him on their couch, being fucked on the kitchen table where Raleigh serves him eggs every morning.

“It doesn’t mean anything, right?” he says. He leans back. “And hell, we all know I’m easy for money.”

Raleigh swallows. Then he looks straight at Stacker, grinning his mad, beautiful grin. “When can we start?”

 

 

They set a date for the apartment scene, which Chuck promptly forgets. He’s forcibly reminded when he wakes up to the sound of Raleigh’s voice downstairs, set in the loud, cocky tone that he adopted for his persona as Danger. Chuck’s lips curl in a drowsy smile as he burrows deeper into the blankets cocooning him, listening as Raleigh’s voice grows louder the closer he gets to Chuck’s room.

“Hey y’all, I’m not sure why this is what you wanted, because there’s not a lot of sex that happens around here. Anywhere, here’s the front hall – Striker brought a welcome mat, what a dork. Here’s the living room, where I kick Striker’s ass in Halo.”

Chuck snorts.

“If he says anything different, he’s lying, ignore it. And over there to the side is my workout equipment, because abs like these, y’know. Here’s the kitchen where I cook, because Striker sucks at it. I had to learn to fillet a fish for him, gross. Here’s my bedroom – there’s my bed, desk, laptop, stuff.”

He comes into Chuck’s room, and Chuck opens his eyes a crack to find Raleigh in his traditional douche-bro attire, looking down at the screen of a handheld camcorder as he recites.

“And here’s Striker’s room – isn’t it freaky neat? – with his like, color-coded notes and shit, nerdling that he is. And his giant poofy comforter. Hey Striker, say hi to the nice viewers.” He comes up next to the bed.

Chuck grabs for his glasses, thankful that he’d left them on the bedside table three nights before after having forgotten to take them off all day after the scene. He slides them on, propping himself up on his elbows. “The fuck time is it?” he asks, voice gravelly.

Raleigh laughs. “Noon, you lazy slob.”

“It’s too early for my traditional urbane wit,” Chuck says. “What the hell are you doing in my room?”

Raleigh shakes the camera at him. “Filming, remember?”

“Aw shit, that’s today?” Chuck groans. “I need coffee.”

“Oh, hang on.” Raleigh sets the camcorder on the desk, checking to make sure it has a clear view of Chuck’s bed. He leaves.

Chuck yawns and rubs his eyes. He’s got a kind of half-assed morning wood going, and he shoots the camera a wicked smile as he rubs the heel of his palm against the bulge in his boxer briefs, just to get things started.

Raleigh comes back with a mug in hand and does a double take when he sees Chuck. “You horny little shit,” he says, passing Chuck the mug.

Chuck takes a grateful gulp. A little cream and a lot of sugar, just the way he likes. “Your fault,” he says, breathing in the steam from his coffee with an expression of worship. “You turned me into this.”

“And I consider it possibly my greatest achievement.” Raleigh plucks the mug from his hand and sets it to the side. He climbs onto the bed, pushing Chuck down so he’s hovering over him.

Chuck lets himself be manhandled without a fight, which is rare, for him. But things are different here, under the soft muted light of his room, nestled into his blankets, Raleigh’s strong hands gliding over his sleep-warmed skin. He feels light and easy, like anything could happen.

“So? What do you think? I fuck you, you fuck me, we 69…” Raleigh dips his fingertips under the elastic band of Chuck’s boxer briefs, just a tease. “Say the word, bro.”

“Can we just…” Chuck hooks his ankle around the back of Raleigh’s knee, pulling him down so they’re pressed up together, hilt to hilt.

“Seriously dude, frottage? If you miss your high school years that much, I could always give you a wedgie or flush your notes down the toilet.” But even as he says it, Raleigh settles in, starting up a lazy grind.

“Has anyone ever told you that your mastery at being annoying is unparalleled?” Chuck asks. “And take your pants off, I’m not into getting rug burn on my dick.”

Raleigh pulls back and goes one further, stripping down all the way. He even takes off the dumb, ubiquitous snapback hat. Chuck follows his lead, wriggling out of his boxer briefs and setting his signature black glasses on the bedside table.

When Raleigh slides back into his grip, Chuck bites his lip to hold in a happy sigh. It’s so much better now – he’s got miles of warm skin to explore, hair to tug, no starched slacks or mesh jerseys in the way. Raleigh likes it too, judging by his silly grin as he scans over Chuck’s features.

“You’re cuter out of your hipster glasses,” he says.

“You’re cuter when you’re not being a tool,” Chuck retorts. “So like, never.”

Raleigh smiles dreamily. “I’m gonna miss your blowjobs so much when someone snaps and stabs you like you deserve.”

“Your dirty talk has moved from weird to outright disturbing.” Chuck wraps his arms around Raleigh’s shoulders and rolls his hips up, luxuriating in the sensation.

Raleigh laughs. He presses open, wet kisses into Chuck’s neck. “But seriously, please don’t piss off the wrong people and get yourself shanked. I’ve gotten used to our weird roommate arrangement.”

“You just like that I always do your laundry,” Chuck says, which is true, because he can’t handle when Raleigh leaves his dirty clothes in piles on the floor. Call it a neurosis, whatever.

“I really do,” Raleigh agrees. He reaches down between them and grasps both their cocks in one hand, and Chuck tosses his head into the pillow, nails dragging over Raleigh’s back.

Chuck’s breath becomes labored. “And, uh, who else would indulge your protein shake addiction?”

Raleigh looks unimpressed. “Other porn stars, for starters. And maybe they wouldn’t steal all my goddamn sweatshirts.”

“I swear to fuck, they keep the AC in the mech engineering building at like 15 degrees,” Chuck says for the tenth time.

“I’m pretty sure they don’t.”

“God, fuck off,” Chuck says, and kisses Raleigh just to shut him up.

It doesn’t work, of course.

 

 

After they rub off on each other til they come, Chuck rests against his headboard and finishes his coffee while Raleigh traces meaningless shapes over Chuck’s ankle with his thumbnail.

“Alright,” Chuck says, stretching. “Time for breakfast.”

“It’s almost one,” Raleigh says.

“I’m thinking pancakes,” Chuck says.

Raleigh rolls out of bed. “Fine,” he says, “but you owe me a blowjob for the nice viewers.”

Chuck looks over to the blinking red light of the camcorder, reminded of its presence. He had almost forgotten it was there. “Fair enough.”

“While I play Mario Kart,” Raleigh says.

Chuck raises one eyebrow. “Alright.”

“What do I get if I win?” Raleigh says, because he’s the second most competitive fuck in the world, after only Chuck himself.

“If you win on the Star Cup while I’m blowing you, I’ll…” Chuck struggles to think of something Raleigh would want from him. “…Let you use my motorcycle for a month.”

“Oh fuck yes,” Raleigh says. He grins. “No problem.”

By the time Raleigh finally finishes Rainbow Road, he’s driven his bike off into space nine times and was lapped twice by the next to last player. Chuck has to pull off because he can’t stop laughing and his teeth keep scraping against Raleigh’s dick.

It’s really Raleigh’s fault, Chuck thinks, for having taught Chuck how to deep-throat in the first place.

 

 

“Frosted Flakes for you, right?” Raleigh says, taking a box off the shelf and dropping it into the cart.

“Yep,” Chuck says, slouched over the handles of the grocery cart as he trails after Raleigh. “Get some Lucky Charms, too.”

Raleigh obliges, though he says over his shoulder, “Now, remind me again – you are a grown-ass man, correct?”

Chuck doesn’t respond, because he’s too busy tossing five packs of breakfast sausage into the cart.

“Dude,” Raleigh says, wrinkling his nose. “At least get the organic all-beef kind, who knows what kind of carcinogens they’ve got in there.”

“I’ve got your organic all-beef sausage right here, mate,” Chuck says, gesturing down at his crotch with both hands.

Raleigh flips him off.

It’s been eight days since Chuck’s had the time to shoot a scene, too busy cramming for an exam. He barely left the library except to eat and shower, going so far as to sleep hunched over in the study carrel. The day after the exam, he slept for 14 hours, then headed to the studio and filmed a fantastically dirty scene where Raleigh dressed him up in his frat clothes and then rimmed him until Chuck sweat all the way through the Brooks Brothers button-down.

When they got home after, Chuck was appalled to find that the only edible food in the house was three tubs of plain Greek yogurt and enough protein powder to bury a small child. Raleigh told him to just do the damn grocery shopping himself if he was gonna be such a little shit about it, Chuck retorted that he would be happy to, provided Raleigh didn’t mind him returning with nothing but cheese, Pop-Tarts, and Pringles, and it went downhill from there.

So here they are, together. Chuck’s amusing himself by slipping candy bars into the cart when Raleigh’s not looking. By the time they make it to the checkout counter, there are 23 Twix bars tucked underneath the Swiss Chard, behind the gallon of milk, between the bags of pasta, and otherwise hidden in every available hiding spot in the cart. Raleigh crosses his arms and glares until Chuck retrieves them all and returns them to the shelf.

“You guys are really cute,” says the cashier, smiling as she watches the events unfold.

They look at each other, both considering whether to correct her.

Not worth the effort, Chuck decides.

“Well, _I_ am,” he drawls. He jerks his thumb at Raleigh. “I dunno about this freakshow.”

She laughs, and Raleigh curls his hand over the back of Chuck’s neck, rubbing small circles with his thumb.

 

 

A few days later, Raleigh comes into the kitchen as Chuck is just finishing inhaling his breakfast. He’s wearing a jacket that Chuck vaguely remembers stealing the week before. “D’you want this?” he asks, offering a slip of paper to Chuck.

He takes it and scans it over. “I think it’s a little late to be giving me your number, yeah?”

Raleigh smiles, but doesn’t take the bait. “It was in my pocket. I assume some girl gave it to you.”

“Oh, yeah, I guess.” Chuck remembers her, kind of. “She was hot.”

Raleigh leans against the counter, eating the last of Chuck’s eggs. “You gonna call her?”

“Nah,” Chuck says. He grabs a sweatshirt from the hook by the door and pulls it on, waiting until he’s unearthed himself before continuing, “She looked too… vanilla. Like the thought of having her face fucked had never occurred to her. You know?”

“Sure,” Raleigh says.

Chuck laughs as he grabs his backpack. “You’ve ruined me, seriously. I’m never gonna be able to get it up again unless the chick’s okay with being filmed. I’ll have to keep an eye out for that.”

“Yeah, right,” Raleigh says.

“Alright, I’ve got class, and then I’m supposed to hang out with Herc today. Catch you later.” Chuck dips his head in a farewell nod before leaving.

Raleigh doesn’t respond.

 

 

Chuck’s painting the fence at his old house with Herc later that afternoon when he gets a call. He checks his phone, and it’s Tendo, which is weird because this is definitely a day off. He motions that he’ll be right back, slipping into the house to answer. “Hey?”

Tendo doesn’t waste time with small talk. “What happened between you and Raleigh?”

Chuck blinks. “Nothing, as far as I know.” There’s a sinking feeling in his gut.

“Then why did he ask to do scenes with Adam Casey?”

Chuck swallows. “I… Did you ask him?”

“He just said he was ready to branch out again.” Tendo sighs. “You really have no idea?”

“No,” Chuck says.

There’s a moment of silence. Then Tendo gives a soft, frustrated noise. “I’m sorry.”

“For what?” Chuck asks acidly. “It’s just a job.”

“Yeah,” says Tendo quietly. “Sorry all the same. I hope things don’t become awkward betw–”

Chuck hangs up. “Fuck,” he says to the open air, hurling the phone against the wall with a clatter.

“Everything alright?” Herc asks from behind him.

Chuck cracks his knuckles. “I think I just got dumped,” he says.

“Uh,” Herc says.

“And he didn’t even have the guts to say it to my face,” Chuck says, nearly a snarl. “You know, I reckon things might get a _little_ awkward round the flat, somehow.”

“Um,” Herc says.

Chuck grits his teeth, massaging his temples where he can feel a monster headache coming on. “God, and the worst part is, Yancy was right. The fucking _viewers_ were right. They must have known it wasn’t just gay-for-pay porn, that’s why they wanted to see us at home.”

“What.” Herc says.

“I think it stopped being just gay-for-pay a while ago,” Chuck says. It would be a confession, only he’s known it for a while, deep down.

There was probably a better way of revealing all that to Herc, he reflects. But his word filter always vanishes when he’s angry, and he doesn’t feel like playing coy at that moment.

Herc comes up behind him, resting a hand on his shoulder. Chuck goes even tenser, if that’s possible. “Someday, when you don’t look so much like a constipated bulldog, we’re gonna have _words_ about things you should and shouldn’t keep from your father,” Herc says in a low growl.

Chuck has seen Max when he was constipated. If he looks like that, it’s no wonder Herc feels sorry for him.

“For now…” Herc swallows, sounding uncomfortable. “Look, do you want me to beat the tar out of Raleigh? I’ll do it.”

God, no wonder he ended up so shit at showing emotion, Chuck marvels. “It’s fine,” he mutters. “It’s just a job. _Was_ just a job. I think I might quit.”

“That sounds like a good idea.” Herc squeezes his shoulder, hard.

Chuck is not looking forward to the talk they’re going to have, when he feels better.

 

 

When he gets back to the flat, Raleigh’s there.

He really should have been prepared for that, considering they live together, and all.

Chuck stops dead in the doorway of the living room. “Uh, hey,” he says inanely.

“Hey,” Raleigh says, not looking away from the TV screen, where he’s getting his ass thoroughly kicked at Mario Kart, which appears to be on the easiest setting. It’s pretty pathetic, so at least there’s that.

Chuck stands in the doorway for another moment.

“Wanna play?” Raleigh asks.

“Sure,” Chuck says. He sits on the other side of the couch from Raleigh.

Raleigh restarts the game, and they go through the various screens til they get to the game. Raleigh’s playing as Dry Bowser instead of his usual King Boo, Chuck notices.

They play a round. Chuck beats Raleigh soundly.

“Look,” says Raleigh, gaze focused on the screen like he’s trying to burn a hole through it.

“Oh fuck, don’t,” Chuck says. “It’s just a job, alright?”

“Yeah,” Raleigh says with notable relief.

Chuck takes a turn a little too hard so his bike spins out on the lava. “So let’s not make it a thing, alright? It’s only as weird as we make it.”

“Yeah.”

 

 

It becomes a thing.

_Duh._

 

 

“Oh, sorry,” Raleigh says, stopping in the doorway to the living room. “I can –”

“Whatever,” Chuck says, not looking up from his homework.

Raleigh hangs back for another minute, then slowly crosses the room to his exercise equipment, like he’s worried Chuck’s going to lash out and bite him. He starts up the treadmill.

Chuck keeps reading, half of his attention going towards **not** chewing on the end of his pencil just so Raleigh isn’t proven right. He loses focus during a particularly obtuse paragraph, though, and realizes 20 minutes later that he’s got eraser bits in his mouth from his chronic nibbling. Goddamn. Raleigh’s gonna be so smug.

When he looks up, though, Raleigh’s looking as far away from him as possible, to the point that he’s staring at the blank wall, neck twisted awkwardly in the effort.

“Forget it,” Chuck says, standing up. “I need to go to the library anyway.”

Raleigh doesn’t say anything.

 

 

Chuck starts spending more and more time on campus just to avoid the awkwardness of being in the flat with Raleigh, which means he sees Mako more than he used to.

She’s not an idiot, so she notices quickly that he’s off his game. He never told her outright that he started doing porn, but she’s smart and he assumes she put together the pieces when he started coming to class sore just as he stopped speculating about his roommate’s gay-for-pay videos.

But, because she’s Mako, she doesn’t pry.

She does sit close on the bench, her thigh pressed against his. And when he finishes all his fries, she nudges hers over without a word.

If he weren’t gay, she’d be the perfect girl for him.

Well, he’s not gay, he doesn’t think. Girls are still – god, their legs, and their boobs, and their lips, but –

But then there’s Raleigh.

Enough said.

It says something profoundly sad about his life that the realization that he’s not straight doesn’t rattle him, compared to the realization that he’d rather date the asshole who goes by the moniker _Danger_ in his porn videos than the brilliant girl who understands him perfectly without having to speak a word.

Fuck. Seriously, what is his life.

 

 

Out of what appears to be uncontrollable masochism, Chuck logs onto the PPDC site and goes under Raleigh’s tag. It automatically sorts into most popular videos, of which he and Raleigh make up the entire first page, so he reorganizes by date. And there’s Adam Casey.

Objectively, Adam Casey is hot. And Raleigh is _definitely_ hot. And the idea of watching them fuck is the weirdest feeling in the world, like his dick can’t decide whether to get hard or to shrivel up and die.

He shuts the computer and goes for a run. At least he’s got enough self-control for that.

 

 

He still does Raleigh’s laundry, though. He wonders if Raleigh notices.

Chuck definitely notices that Raleigh always makes twice as much food as he needs to, leaving the leftovers in unmarked Tupperware containers in the fridge.

And no matter how fast Chuck goes through them, there’s always a steady supply of salt and vinegar chips in the pantry.

 

 

Yancy comes over while he’s reading a book on the couch (fiction, for once). He doesn’t say anything, just sits next to Chuck and picks up a pair of discarded GameCube controllers, offering one to Chuck.

He takes it.

Yancy boots up SoulCalibur, and they play a few rounds before Chuck’s patience runs out.

“What did he tell you?” he asks.

“Just that you stopped filming together, and it was his call,” Yancy replies, not missing a beat. He nudges Chuck in the side with his elbow. “Believe me, I know this one’s on him.”

Chuck waits, but nothing else is forthcoming. “Well?” he finally says.

“Well, what?”

“Well aren’t you gonna say something?” Chuck gestures with his controller, and gets KOed because of it. He curses and goes back to the game. “Try to explain it, or make excuses for him, or tell me I’m better off without his dumb ass?”

“You probably are,” Yancy says. “Only thing I’m gonna say is this, Hansen: I don’t think he ever knew you _had_ his dumb ass in the first place. And that one’s not just on him.”

Chuck’s shoulders slump.

“Also, you really suck at SoulCalibur,” Yancy adds.

“Fuck off and die,” Chuck says.

Yancy shrugs.

 

 

He’s grabbing dinner in the North End with Mako when he hears something that makes his heart skip a beat.

“Striker!”

He turns and finds three girls waving madly at him, smiles nearly too big to be contained by their faces. They could be college age, technically, but none of them looks to be older than 18.

Oh, Christ.

Chuck rubs his temples. “Can you… Sorry, I’ll be right back.” He breaks off from Mako and goes over to the girls. “Alright, what’s up?”

They turn shy when he gets close, only one of them able to meet his eye while the others blush and shuffle their feet. “Um, we just wanted to say…” one of the shy ones starts, but loses her nerve.

“Danger misses you,” the bold one speaks up.

“Like, a lot.”

“A lot a lot.”

“He’s all mopey on camera.”

The last girl, thus far silent, speaks up. “Please don’t leave him because you’re straight.”

Chuck grits his teeth. “Raleigh asked to do scenes with other people,” he says, aiming for – and mostly managing – an even tone. “That’s why I left.”

“Oh,” the bold one says. It’s so soft and sad that Chuck finds himself stumbling back a step.

His hands are shaking.

He sets his jaw. “It was never a thing. I know it was more than gay-for-pay, but it wasn’t… whatever you think it is.”

“That’s…” says the first girl to speak. “I’m so sorry.”

“Shit happens,” Chuck says.

“Did you ask him why? Talk it out?”

Chuck works his jaw. No, he didn’t, and he knows that’s weak of him. But there’s literally nothing he’d like less than to ask Raleigh to spell out the reasons he rejected Chuck. Something made Raleigh want to leave their arrangement, and it doesn’t really matter what it was, so –

Well, Chuck’s just not that interested in having a conversation about it.

“What is there to talk about?” he says.

He wants to leave, but they’re standing there looking like someone shot their dog, so he hangs around long enough to tell a few of the more lighthearted stories about working with Raleigh before returning to Mako.

“What was that?” she asks, twisting her head to watch the girls walk away.

“Nothing,” he says and stuffs his hands in his pockets. “Just some girls I used to know.”

 

 

“Wanna talk?” Cheung says, crouching next to Chuck.

Chuck doesn’t bother answering, just glares.

“I’m just saying, this –” Cheung waves around to encompass Jin, who is examining his (possibly broken) ribs tenderly, and then Chuck, who is rubbing ointment on his split knuckles “ –isn’t the look of a man whose life is going the direction he wants it to.”

Chuck doesn’t say anything, but he knows it’s true.

 

 

Chuck comes out of library after studying one day and finds Raleigh sitting on a bench outside the building, hunched over with his elbows on his knees.

He stops dead, stuttering off in the middle of a sentence to Mako.

Raleigh looks up, sees them, and stares. “Mako?” he asks.

“Oh no,” Mako says under her breath.

“You know her?” Chuck asks.

“She’s Pentecost’s daughter,” Raleigh says, standing.

Now Chuck stares. “How did this never come up in conversation?”

“I did not think you wanted me to know,” Mako says, ducking her head. “In my experience, people in the erotic film industry prefer to keep their personal lives separate from their careers.”

Chuck furrows his brow. “So all along, you knew I was looking for Raleigh’s videos, and you never told me you knew who he was?”

“I did not know, but I suspected. And I did not think it was my right to tell you, if he did not want you to know,” she says. Her eyes flit to Raleigh. “I should go.”

“If you could?” Raleigh says.

She nods to Chuck, who resolves to have a long conversation with her about it later, and leaves.

“You were looking for my videos?” Raleigh asks him.

Chuck looks away. “What are you doing here?” he asks in a painfully obvious change of subject.

Raleigh kicks ineffectually at the ground, also looking down. “I think we need to talk.”

Chuck’s face must reflect how violently opposed to that idea he is, because Raleigh holds up his hands, supplicating. “Or I could talk! You can just stand there and listen!”

Chuck shuffles his feet.

“And you can punch me in the face if I get too sensitive,” Raleigh adds.

“I’m in,” Chuck says immediately.

Raleigh smiles, but it fades. He scratches the back of his head. “Stacker said something to me today that kinda shook me up.”

Chuck tilts his head to the side.

Raleigh tucks his hands in his pockets and rocks on his heels. He still won’t meet Chuck’s eye. “He said that I had to stop trying to get back the dynamic I had with you, because the other guys think they’re there to do porn, not to be in a relationship.”

Chuck’s mouth goes dry.

Finally, Raleigh lifts his gaze, doleful and pleading at the same time. “And I knew I liked you, but I didn’t think we were – I never would have asked to shoot with Adam if I had known we were in a relationship.”

Chuck scrapes the toe of his boot along the ground. “But we weren’t, not really.”

Raleigh presses his lips together. “I mean, that’s what I thought, but then Stacker said… and I cooked for you, and you did our laundry, and we flirted and had sex and… weren’t we?”

Chuck shrugs. “On paper, sure, but it’s not a relationship if neither party knows it is. That’s not _real_ , and I want real. I want a relationship where both of us know it is one.”

“Oh.” A smile begins to spread on Raleigh’s face, slow as the sunrise. “I… Yeah, that sounds better.”

And seeing that smile – it’s like the feeling Chuck got when he opened that hole-punched box on Christmas morning and found a slobbery pile of wrinkles looking up at him. Unable to express that, he settles for punching Raleigh’s shoulder, hard. “Why the fuck did you break up with me in the first place, you bastard?”

Raleigh hunches his shoulders guiltily. “You said that thing about how you’d never be able to get it up if the girl wasn’t up for porn, and it sounded like you regretted that you weren’t fucking women.” He touches the back of Chuck’s hand. “And like, you felt like the industry had ruined your life, and since I’m the one who got you into it, I dunno. I didn’t want you to get complacent with me if you were looking for other things.” _Or have my heart broken when you left anyway_ , he doesn’t say, though Chuck hears it all the same.

Chuck crosses his arms over his chest. “I was making a point about how you’ve made it so I can’t get off without thinking of you,” he says, acidic.

Raleigh grins, at that. “Oh.”

“Yes, oh.” Chuck rolls his eyes. “You should have fucking asked if you were so freaked out.”

Raleigh raises his eyebrows. “Yeah, because you’re so open about your feelings.”

“Shut up and also fuck off,” Chuck scowls. “Still. Clearly you suck at communication. And this is _me_ saying that.”

“We’ll work on it,” Raleigh shrugs, like it’s easy. No – like it’s _worth_ it.

Chuck, finally, relaxes. He smiles back. “You seriously owe me so many BLTs to make up for this. With chipotle mayo. And we’re doing teacher/schoolgirl role-play for the site.”

Raleigh slings his arm over Chuck’s shoulders, reeling him in to press a sloppy kiss to the side of his head. “I’m down for that.”

 

**Author's Note:**

> Yes I did steal the name ‘pan-pacific dick company’ from the lovely Sonora, thanks.
> 
> I don’t remember who it was on tumblr who said it was their headcanon that the cameraman in the blowjob scene was Tendo, but they were so right.


End file.
